With a deep breath, I pushed my shoulders back, exited my car, and headed inside to the sound of screaming. I kicked my shoes off inside the doorway, and when Dad saw me, he paused the TV and the screaming stopped. “Wanna join us? Sara and I are watching Jaws.”
I hesitated. I wasn’t really in the mood for company, but he must’ve sensed my reluctance because he lifted the bowl between them and shook it. “We have popcorn with M&Ms.”
I offered him my best smile, then nodded toward the screen as I said, “Fine, but when Sara cries tonight because she’s scared, I’m sending her to you.”
“I won’t get scared,” Sara said indignantly, and I laughed because we both knew she was full of it.
Five minutes later, I was settled in between them, picking at the popcorn, when Dad slung his arm around me and pulled me closer. With a sigh, I rested my head against his shoulder, but no matter how much I tried to focus on the movie, I found it impossible.
Soon, my thoughts shifted from the giant shark on screen to Mr. Elliot, and I replayed our conversation in my head, hating that my father worked for him and telling myself his threat was a bluff and nothing more. After all, Topher’s choices were his own, and I had nothing to do with it.
Still, my eyes strayed to my father’s face. He was quiet, intensely focused on the film, which was one of his favorites, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude that I had someone like him. Someone who would support me no matter who I was or what I wanted to do in life.
“Love you, Dad,” I murmured.
He gave my shoulders a squeeze as he peeled his gaze from the screen, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Love you too, P.” He brushed the hair off my face, getting a better look at me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” I settled back into his shoulder and returned my attention to the movie.
A little over an hour later, I hit the shower, feeling only slightly better about my crappy day. I turned the water off and stepped out, then wrapped a towel around me, and headed for my room, where I flopped down on my bed and scrolled through the IRL playlist on my phone when a text came through from Topher.
I contemplated ignoring it. He thought Julie stood him up, so maybe it was best to cut him off now, cold turkey.
But after a moment, curiosity got the best of me. I cursed myself for being weak and opened up his message.
Jerkwad: Hey, you there? Can we talk?
I bit my lip, knowing I should ignore him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself where he was concerned. I liked him too much, a fact that should’ve been apparent before today but wasn’t. Apparently, I was an excellent liar, after all, especially to myself.
I replied, “Yeah, I’m here,” and hit send, then proceeded to scold myself for my lack of self-control.
A second later, my phone rang, and my stomach lurched as I took in the name on the screen. It was him. Worse yet, it was a video chat.
I threw my phone down on the bed like it was an atomic bomb, then jumped away like it might explode.
Crap. Crap. Crap. When he asked if we could talk, I assumed he meant via text, NOT FACETIME.
My heart banged against my ribs as I contemplated my options: A, don’t answer, which might arouse suspicions, or B, answer and out myself.
I bit my lip. Maybe this was best. All I had to do was accept the call, and once and for all, he’d know the truth. Boom! Finished. No more lying. No more fearing my secret.
But another truth slammed into me.
I wasn’t ready for this to end, and the second he discovered I had been lying to him this whole time, that I was Julie, he’d hate me. I was suddenly sure of it.
The call went to voicemail, and I yelled, “No!”
I grabbed the phone, and it immediately began to ring again.
I glanced around me frantically, searching for a way to disguise myself when my gaze landed on a package of expensive sheet masks Scarlett bought me for my birthday. I’d been saving them, knowing once they were gone I couldn’t afford to replace them.
I snatched them up, ripped open the package, and took one of the delicate, soggy masks out and placed it gingerly over my face. Then I whipped my hair up into a messy bun and squeezed my eyes closed, saying a prayer for strength as I swiped to accept the call.
When his face popped up on my screen, I gripped the phone so tight my hand ached. My heart soared at the sight of him before it subsequently plummeted to somewhere deep beneath the earth’s atmosphere at the sight of myself in the little window at the bottom of the screen.
Liquid dripped from the edges of the gauzy white mask. Only my lips and eyes were clearly visible, and I looked completely crazy.
“Uh . . .” Topher just barely stifled a laugh while my heart threatened to explode, and I realized all too late that I was still in nothing but my bath towel.
My face flushed underneath the mask as I clutched the top of the towel where it was knotted at my chest. “Sorry,” I said, then realized I had used my real voice, so I corrected it with an exaggerated rasp. “Sorry, I just got out of the shower and didn’t expect you to call.”
Topher’s smile faded. “Are you okay? Your voice sounds really weird.”
“Oh, yeah.” I coughed for effect. “I just have a cold.”
“Oh. Is that why you didn’t show today?”
My eyes widened at the handfed excuse. “Uh, yeah. I was afraid I’d be contagious.”
“Do you want me to let you go, and you can call me back—”
“No!” I shouted. Then in a softer voice, added, “No, that’s okay. As long as you don’t mind . . .”
“It’s cool. You look all Silence of the Lambs, but in a cute kind of way with that thing on.”
“Oh. Ha ha. Um, thanks.”
“What is it, exactly?” he asked, gesturing toward his face.
“It’s a facesheet. I don’t stay this beautiful on my own, you know,” I said, then wanted to immediately facepalm myself for it. The situation was bad enough, and I looked completely ridiculous without me sounding like a dork, too.
Topher scoffed. “I bet you couldn’t look ugly if you tried.”
My heart melted into a puddle by my feet, and I had to remind myself, he wasn’t talking about me. At least not the real me.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or text to let you know.”
“It’s no problem. Bummer though, there was a friend I wanted you to meet, and she actually showed. I think the two of you would hit it off.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He nodded. “She’s pretty cool.”
“Should I be jealous?”
Topher glanced to the side, and even though he laughed, I swore I saw some sort of untapped emotion flicker through his eyes. “Nah, we’re just friends. And I’m totally not P’s type anyway.”
I frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
“How could you not be her type?” I asked, hoping he’d elaborate.
“Let’s just say she used to hate me.”
“And now?”
He grinned. “I’m turning her around. Just like I did with you.”
“Oh, you did, huh? Did I say that you won the bet yet?”
He laughed. “Did I?”
“Maybe.” I grinned and it hit me. I was flirting. Like, really flirting.
“Maybe?” He chuckled. “Pshtt. You know you do. Come on, admit it. Even that day you texted me, you did so hoping I’d take the bait and bite back. And now, I’ve proven to you I’m a good guy, and you like me.”
I swallowed as his words clanged in my skull. Even that day you texted me, you did so hoping I’d take the bait and bite back.
Oh god. Is that what I’d been doing? Did I secretly harbor a crush on Topher this entire time, even before the tutoring and the texting? Is that why the cruel jokes hurt so much all these years?
The thought turned my stomach because it made me feel even more pathetic than before, and when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out.
<
br /> “I’ll take your silence as defeat.” Topher fisted a hand in the air as I fought for composure.
“I plead the fifth,” I croaked.
“You can’t evoke fifth amendment rights. That doesn’t apply here.”
“Of course it does.”
“Fine. But the terms of the bet are still solid. So that means you’re my homecoming date. No take-backs.”
My pulse fluttered, and the hand gripping my phone began to sweat.
A bet’s a bet, right? Wrong. But I still had to answer him. “Do you get all your dates as collateral?”
“If it works.”
His blue eyes sparkled, and despite myself, I laughed.
“I’ll take that as a yes?”
“Are you always this relentless?”
“Are you always this resistant?”
I pursed my lips. “When it matters.”
“And agreeing to homecoming matters?”
It did, more than he knew. “Maybe.”
“Just more proof you like me.”
“Fine.”
What the crap was I saying?
“Fine, you’ll go?” he asked, and I could practically hear the hope in his voice.
“I’ll go,” I said, even as I regretted it.
“Alright, then. I’ll wear something neutral so we match. And don’t be intimidated, but I’ll probably be Homecoming King.”
My stomach fluttered at the significance of what it would mean to actually show up with Topher on my arm. That is, if he didn’t go running for the hills first.
“Does that matter to you? Homecoming King and all that,” I clarified.
He sighed like it was a burden. “Not in the least, but I guess it’s all a part of the gig, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. I had no clue what it must be like to be that popular to where it was a given. Even if Topher accepted me once he knew the truth, what would JT, Luca, and Mikey say? If we showed up together, it was sure to be a complete disaster.
My stomach rolled uncomfortably, and suddenly, I felt like I might be sick. “You know what, my dad’s calling me. I’ve gotta go.”
Topher’s shoulders slumped, and I heard the disappointment in his voice as he said, “Okay, sure thing. But, before you go, I just wanted to say thanks.”
“For homecoming?”
“For listening. For giving me the permission I needed to be the man I really wanna be.” He paused, jaw working before he said, “My dad knows I’m taking the meeting with Bucknell and considering their offer.”
“Oh, wow,” I breathed, brows rising to my hairline. So that must be the reason he cornered me at the meet. Topher stood up to him, and his father assumed it to be my influence, which I suppose, in part, it was. “How did he take it?” I asked.
Topher shrugged. “He threatened to cut me off. The scholarship only covers tuition, not room and board, so it’s not exactly ideal.”
“Are you second-guessing yourself?”
He blew out a breath and raked his free hand through his hair. “I don’t know. No? Maybe? Regardless, I wouldn’t even have had the courage to take the meeting if it weren’t for you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You’re the one that did it.”
“Regardless . . . take the credit.” He laughed.
I smiled. “Fine. You’re welcome, then.”
“‘Night, Julie.”
“G’night,” I said, then hung up the phone and clutched it to my chest. Wishing I was really Julie. Wishing for someone to give me permission to be me.
Chapter 20
TOPHER
I entered the library and spotted Penelope immediately. She sat at a table, hunched over a worn paperback. A lock of dark hair fell in her eyes. She absently pushed it away, shoving it behind her ear, and when she glanced up at the sound of my footsteps, her chocolate eyes met mine, and my heart squeezed.
“Hey.” I grinned as I sidled up next to the table, shoving my hand into the back pocket of my jeans where I retrieved the tickets and slid them over the tabletop. “I’ve got a little surprise for you.”
She blinked down at them. They were IRL tickets for a concert in Richmond, and I’d spent hours yesterday scouring the internet and various ticket sites to find the best ones.
Several beats passed before she picked them up, mouth gaping. “What? No way.”
“Yes, way,” I confirmed, trying and failing to hide my smirk.
“But . . . how?”
“I have my ways. But if we want to make it in time, we need to go. It’s a two-hour drive.”
Penelope glanced at the little silver watch strapped around her wrist. “Oh crap.” Then her gaze shifted over her books and the room. “What about our session?”
“What about our session? Do you hear yourself?” I leaned onto the table, palms pressing into the edge of the wood. “What’s the problem, P?”
“There’s no problem, I—”
“Oh, I see how it is.” I straightened and rocked back on my heels. “It’s me. You want to go to the concert, just not with me.” I didn’t really believe this, of course, but I enjoyed messing with her, and the blush rising to her cheeks was too cute to stop.
“No. That’s not it. I swear.”
“It’s cool. I get it.” I snatched the tickets back up and held them away from her.
“Hey! You can’t offer, then take it back.” She stood on her toes in an effort to swipe them from my fingertips, but I held them above my head while she clawed at the air.
“I wouldn’t want to make you do anything you didn’t want to.”
She scowled, shooting me a dirty look. “Give them back.”
“I don’t think you really want them.” I shifted the hand holding the ticket behind my back, and before I could prepare myself, she lunged at me, reaching both arms around my body in a giant bear hug in an effort to wrestle them from my grip.
“I said, give them back,” she growled.
My body vibrated with laughter as I struggled to hold onto them. Somewhere from the bowels of the library, the school librarian appeared. Frown in place. Eyes laser beams as she ground out, “This is not a playground, you two!”
I spluttered another laugh at the same time Penelope wrapped her hand around mine, and I stilled, gripping hers back as she stared up into my eyes. And for the briefest of moments, I knew those eyes—from somewhere else—maybe it was from a dream, or maybe I was imagining things, but she felt familiar in a way she hadn’t before.
My gaze shifted to her lips, close enough to mine that I could smell her fruity Chapstick. And I wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to press my lips to hers, when she pulled away, pink-cheeked and flustered.
Averting her gaze, she fisted the tickets in her hand as I worked to draw air into my lungs.
“It’s just that it’s a school night. I’ll have to get permission first,” she said.
What? I almost asked, forgetting what we were even talking about in the first place.
My heart pounded in my ears, and then she cleared her throat, and I took a step back, feeling the space between us like a barrier I could never cross.
I inhaled a shaky breath, reminding myself I was pursuing Julie, not Penelope. At this rate, I was lucky P was even speaking to me. I had zero chance of dating her.
“Sure. Whatever you need to do,” I managed, my voice thick. “Go ahead.” I waved her on, and when she stepped away from me, I tipped my head skyward. I needed to get a hold of myself.
Though Penelope stepped away, I could still hear her whispers as she explained what she wanted to do. When she glanced back at me, I flashed an encouraging smile, then she turned back around and lowered her voice, murmuring the name Scarlett, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was lying to her dad about who she was with and why.
If that was the case, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Should I be offended? Concerned? Insulted? I wasn’t sure, but the last thing I was going to do was call her out. Selfishly, I wanted her to come w
ith me. So when she turned back around, smiled, and asked if I was ready, all I did was nod.
Music blasted through the stadium. Strobing lights flashed, their multi-colors changing with the beat. Beside me, Penelope swayed with the music, arms in the air, lips moving along with the words. On stage, the lead guitarist stepped forward and picked out a solo that rivaled Jimi Hendrix. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I hooted and cheered along with the crowd, and when the last chord rang out and the familiar lyrics to “California Dreamer” echoed through the stadium, Penelope and I started to clap along with the beat.
She leaned in, shouting to be heard above the music, “They’re even better in person! I forgot how much.”
“Right?”
Body swaying, hands going, and voice raw from the last two hours of yelling and singing, we turned back toward the stage. The tang of sweat filled the thick air around us. Night had fallen long ago, and above our heads, the stars dotted a technicolor sky.
When the riff from “Dreamer” turned into the slow, smooth chorus of IRL’s first hit song, “No Stone Unturned,” the crowd roared. Beside me, Penelope dropped her arms, placing one palm against her chest as the gut-wrenching lyrics about love and loss wrapped around us.
The stage lights turned purple, casting an ethereal glow over Penelope’s face and all I could do was stare. Tonight, under the stage lights—dancing and singing when she thought no one was watching—was the most alive I’d ever seen her. And as I stared at her profile now, I realized this was the Penelope she hid away—the real her—the one few got to see. The one she’d only recently allowed me to see. And I wished she’d give me a chance as more than just friends. Because when I was around her, it wasn’t Julie I thought about or even Gabby. I didn’t care about being King or the Royals or labels or what anyone thought. All I wanted was to sink into her.
She glanced over at me, catching my eye, and my lips split into a smile because I might be unsure about my future, but there was one thing in this moment I was sure about. Her.
I leaned in. Spread my hand over the side of her face, cupping the edge of her jaw and tipping her face up to mine until our lips met. A moment passed as I breathed her in, catching the scent of her watermelon Chapstick before I shifted my mouth and tasted it.
Hate Notes: A Sweet Enemies to Lovers Young Adult Romance (Lakeview Prep Book 1) Page 15
